


The Dinner and the Diatribes

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [50]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Bad Flirting, Bad Poetry, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Dancing, Dinner, Euphemisms, F/M, Family Drama, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Regret, Rough Kissing, Scheming, Sexual Tension, So much flirting, Threats of Violence, plots and schemes, so many euphemisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: [Set prior to the beginning of the series]  Hisana, Ukitake, Kyouraku, and Isshin try to salvage a dinner that is heading off the rails.  Byakuya and Tadahiro resort to fisticuffs.  Hisana reluctantly complies with a request from the Kuchiki family that she fears will spell disaster for her and Byakuya.
Relationships: Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana, Shiba Kaien/Shiba Miyako
Series: A Thin Red Line [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The Dinner and the Diatribes

“Now, was it _three_ or _four_ captains for tonight?” Hisana’s voice is bright and floats through the air with an electric buzz. A spark flashes in her eyes as she leans closer to Captain Shiba and pins Tadahiro with a stare that _dares_ him to protest. “Because I caught _two_ of them.”

Yes, she sees Byakuya Kuchiki standing beside Captain Ukitake. No, she has _no idea_ how to react. The plan she had been rehearsing in her head on the walk over has gone to hell. Quickly, she surveys the room, deciding the order of her targets, like a dancer plotting her steps across a stage.

Tadahiro chuckles lightly at her. “Three, but Captain Shiba wasn’t among the guests.”

“Oh, bother,” Hisana sings sweetly, “Can we keep him, though?” She slants her body against Captain Shiba, using him as a dancer’s frame. With a featherlight touch, she tussles his hair playfully. “He’s so _scruffy_.” 

She can feel the captain flutter against her, likely flustered by her unwarranted proximity, _but_ if he’s getting past Tadahiro, he’s going to have to play along.

Tadahiro gives her an amused stare. “Yes, we can find room for Captain Isshin.” He then reaches his arm out for her, like a falconer calling a bird.

Hisana responds with a slinky, swaying swagger. She deepens their shared gaze; her reiatsu swirling against his, braiding through the threads, pulling him closer. When she reaches his side, his eyes are soft, focused on her lips. His head lowers slightly, but she has already set her sights on her next target, Byakuya Kuchiki.

If she is going to make this performance convincing, then she has to engage with the young Kuchiki heir. Every part of her warns her against it, like she’s about to take the plunge into an icy lake.

Leaving Tadahiro wanting, Hisana steps away. “Lord Byakuya Kuchiki,” she breathes his name like it gives her life, “it’s always a _pleasure_ seeing you.” She closes the distance between them. 

He does not move an inch, but his eyes drink her in, like a dying man in a desert. She does everything in her power to force away the burn of a fierce blush. 

Tenderly, she reaches up and adjusts the collar of his royal-blue kimono. For a brief moment, she allows herself to indulge in the heat of his presence. His pulse throbs against the pressure of her thumbs, but she continues smoothing the fabric down. While she’s captured his attention, she gives an imperceptible jerk of her wrist, which releases the box containing the heirloom from her sleeve. Without a moment’s hesitation, she unfurls the leaves of her fan and waves it flirtatiously as her gaze skims his lips. It’s all a distraction as she stuffs the box in his hand. 

She knows that all of the Captains could have spotted the handoff if they had been paying even the barest of attention. The diversion, however, was for both Tadahiro and the Heishi Lord. To that end, Hisana prays she was successful.

“Would Lord Kuchiki oblige me?” she asks, fluttering the leaves of the fan near her face before turning her back to him. “I believe my hairpin needs adjusting.”

“Hisana,” murmurs Tadahiro, there is an amused but _disapproving_ tenor in his voice, “Byakuya is a betrothed man.” He makes the protest that Byakuya _should_ be airing, but isn’t.

“I’m well-aware,” she answers flatly, “but he isn’t married _yet_ ,” she gives a small huff, “He hasn’t much time to sow any lingering wild oats.”

She waits patiently, feeling the warm tide of Byakuya’s breath go ragged against the back of her neck as his fingers lightly graze her spider-lily kanzashi. 

“I believe Byakuya has labored very hard over the last few years to sow all of the wild oats. His and others,” says Captain Ukitake, who cautions her with a steady look.

She’ll go easy on Captain Ukitake, who is unquestionably _the adult_ in most of the rooms he enters.

“Captain Ukitake,” she purrs before retreating from the warmth of Byakuya’s touch, “enchanting as ever.” She offers him a genuine smile, “And, who is this?” she continues, chin tilting up and eyes locking with the Heishi Lord.

“Lord Hideaki Heishi,” replies Captain Ukitake.

Before she can move to introduce herself to Lord Heishi, she reflexively dodges Captain Shiba’s open embrace. He tumbles down, reducing his captain’s haori into a quaking white puddle. 

_Carefully_ , she steps around him, ignoring the gentle tugs he gives to the silk that pools around her feet. “Lord Heishi,” she trills, fluttering her fan sweetly. She gives as reverent a bow that she can muster with the restraints of her silks, “it’s a pleasure.” Feeling his reiatsu, she begins tangling hers through his, catching a glimpse of her work as his features soften and his eyes cloud.

“Lord Heishi, this is—” begins Captain Ukitake, but he is abruptly interrupted.

“—Hisana,” says the Lord. 

Hisana waves her fan diffidently, encouraging him to take her in, an offer he seemingly relishes. His lips part, but, before the words come, the host steps into the center of their small circle. 

“If we may interest you in sake or wine while you wait. One of our parties is delayed so it’ll only be a few moments longer,” greets the host. His voice trills up a few octaves upon realizing the guests who comprise the party.

The delay is unacceptable, given _who_ the guests are, but, before Tadahiro has the chance to chastise the host, Hisana clacks the slats of her fan together. “Perfect. I can go _freshen_ up.” Her voice hardens slightly as she yanks the hem of her kimono from Captain Shiba’s hands. “Maybe I can get some of the slobber from my silk.”

“It smells so nice!” he protests, as she leaves him in a cold wake.

What Hisana actually needs is a moment. A moment to come up with a strategy. Captains Kyōraku and Shiba will play along with her, of this she is more certain as to Captain Kyōraku’s compliance than Captain Shiba’s. Next on her mind is the problem of placating Tadahiro. Achieving that task shouldn’t be _too difficult_ , if she keeps her distance from Lord Byakuya. Tadahiro _usually_ isn’t an absolute bastard in public. 

This leaves Captain Ukitake, Lord Byakuya, and Lord Heishi. Hisana doesn’t see Captain Ukitake as an obstacle; he is quick to rescue others in conversation. Namely, he is quick to rescue his friend-in-arms, Captain Kyōraku, from social suicide, but she assumes that this particular proclivity extends _broadly_. For Lord Byakuya, she needs to freeze him out as subtly as possible. She trusts neither him nor herself. Both of them have made so many mistakes thus far.

As for Lord Heishi? Hisana hasn’t the foggiest idea what to do about him. At the very least, he seems susceptible to her little trick of threading the needle of reiatsu, but other than that….

All she is left is wondering _is how._ How did this particular collection of people come together? If she had to make a wager, she would revise her first assumption about the night—that it was a _trap_ set by Tadahiro—and bet good money on that it is a _test_ devised by Tadahiro, Lord Ginrei Kuchiki, and Lord Heishi. 

Captains Kyōraku, Ukitake, and Shiba are there in case there is any collateral. A prudent decision given the potential for friction between Tadahiro and Lord Byakuya, both of whom wield immense power and influence.

Lost in thought, Hisana settles into a small, familiar space that abuts the garden. The proprietor of the establishment is a friend of her Mistress and is well-aware of where the courtesans go to “freshen up.” He also never hesitates to collect them when the time comes. 

Confident in this fact, Hisana braces her shoulder against the frame of the door and peers out at the large, knotted weeping cherry. The tree is august, holding court among the smaller flowers and plants that surround it. Yet, it looks solemn and alone, reaching out to nothing but sky.

Feeling the familiar presence of another, Hisana suddenly wishes she were _alone_ with nothing but sky above her. “Lord Byakuya,” she murmurs to herself. She wants to say more, to explain why she is going to sever ties, to tell him that she doesn’t want to, but that it’s for his own good, and that _she_ , a mere peasant, can indeed decide what is and isn’t good for him.

All of these thoughts race from her mouth, down her throat and build into a crushing pressure in her chest the moment she feels the familiar prick and weight of the red cherry blossom kanzashi. Her heart sinks as she glimpses him from the corner of her eye. 

“Lord Byakuya,” she begins again, this time with more force, “you can’t—” She turns to him, eyes soft and probing. “—this is for your lady.”

He lowers his head and whispers a quiet, “You are my lady.”

Hisana shuts her eyes, unsure what feels better, the heat of his breath against the shell of her ear, or the warm wave his words usher over her. Either way, she can’t encourage this. It will ruin her. It will ruin him. No, _she_ will ruin him, if she doesn’t find the strength of will to crush his heart and quickly.

 _‘Love really does turn otherwise clever people into blithering idiots.’_ Mistress’s voice roars in her head.

Her eyes flutter open. Her lips part. She has found her last spark of flame among the banked embers of her heart, and then, she stupidly meets his stare. 

She is absolutely helpless.

_Idiot._

Her hands are on his chest. She put them there to push him away, but, now, all she can do is tenderly brush imagined lint from his shoulders, relishing the heat of the man underneath the silk. Never has she wanted to take something so much. Damn the consequences.

A mutual feeling, she thinks, as he closes the little distance between them. He stops short of kissing her, marking his gesture as an offer, not a command. 

_Useless._ Her wits are rendered completely useless. She leans into him, so eager to feel the press of his mouth against hers. Her heart goes still when her lips brush lightly against his.

“The room is ready,” the bright sound of Captain Ukitake’s voice cuts the tension, forcing them apart. 

Hisana is hesitant to look at the Captain. She knows. She knows he knows, and, when she finally stitches together her resolve to find him standing at the door, she sees the concern pulling the lines of his face. The brunt of his disapproval, however, appears to be centered on Byakuya, which isn’t fair. 

None of this is fair.

But tests and cruel manipulations are favored tools of the nobility, and all they can do is play along and pray they pass the night.

Hisana grabs Lord Byakuya’s wrist and tugs him after her. When she reaches Captain Ukitake, she flashes a clever smile, and loops her arm through his, yanking them both out of the room.

No way in hell they can meet the party in the vestibule looking sheepish and guilty. Not with both Tadahiro and Lord Heishi in attendance.

“Look who I found,” Hisana announces with a hint of scandal in her voice as she steps out of the corridor and toward the circle of men no one would ever want to meet in a darkened alleyway, “ _leering_ at the lovely geisha preparing themselves in their dressing rooms! _Voyeurs!_ ” Expectantly, her eyes find their young geisha entertainer for the evening, who daintily holds her shamisen against her chest, as if it might be able to shield her from the scandal of Hisana’s accusation.

This poor girl has no idea what her proprietor has signed her up for tonight. 

Pity plucks at the strings of Hisana’s heart, and she drops her hold on both Lord Byakuya and Captain Ukitake. Like a bird, Hisana flitters to the young girl and takes the geisha’s arm, leading her in the direction of the banquet hall. “Can you even believe it?” she asks the geisha conspiratorially in hushed tones. She then cuts Captain Ukitake and Lord Byakuya a knowing glance.

Both men stand wide-eyed and _mortified_ , as if they had never had such a charge leveled at them in their entire _lives_. Neither, however, challenge Hisana’s story, leaving their scandalized expressions to be mistaken for _guilt_.

“Lord Tadahiro?” Hisana calls sweetly over her shoulder and reaches out for his hand. She needs to keep him close for appearances’ sake, and he eagerly obliges her casual flirtation.

The banquet room is beautifully appointed. A large table spans the sunken middle section of the room. Brightly dyed and embroidered silk pillows line the table, and an assortment of seasonal amuse-bouche has been set along with tea and sake. Hisana and the geisha immediately begin doling out the tea and sake with the graceful movements that have been beaten into them since girlhood. 

Hisana is more extravagant in her presentation, happy to let her sleeve fall back and show more skin than the young girl, who quickly finds a seat at the corner of the table nearest Lord Heishi. A good choice, Hisana thinks. Despite his immense wealth and title, he is the _least_ powerful soul among this peculiar assortment of men.

Hisana, however, is stuck between Lord Tadahiro, and, oddly, _Isshin Shiba_ , who squeezes in beside her despite her best efforts to preside over the far left corner of the table with only one monster by her side. Captain Shiba presses close and watches her not with the look of a lover, but that of a chaperone, a chaperone who has been sent with the express mission of ensuring that she doesn’t step too far out of bounds.

She glances sweetly at him, feeling the press of his thigh against hers. 

He gives her a knowing grin, like he’s in on the performance. An ally. Small miracles, but she’ll take what she can get.

Captain Kyōraku sits directly in front of her, and he takes her offering of sake more readily than the tea. To the left of Captain Kyōraku is Lord Heishi, who is served by the young geisha. Captain Ukitake assumes an easy seiza to Captain Kyōraku’s right. Captain Ukitake manages a look of warning when Hisana hands him a steaming cup of tea, his gaze lingering on the red streamer that flutters with every movement she makes. 

Beside Captain Ukitake sits Byakuya, whose side she must effortlessly shuffle to in order to serve him. Hisana manages it with swift grace. While she is careful not to show him in any favor, she does not deny the sting of his hand when it brushes against her fingers as she hands him his sake.

In an instant, she is beside Tadahiro, who drapes a protective arm around her shoulders.

“Where is Kaien?” asks Tadahiro with a small head tilt, eyes locking on Captain Shiba.

“Wedding preparations,” responds Captain Shiba between sips of sake.

Captain Ukitake nods. “Yes. He and Miyako have taken a few days off to prepare.”

“An autumn wedding?” asks the geisha.

Hisana wants to shake her head. No. Wedding preparations for high nobles like the Shiba, Shihōin, Konoe, and Kuchiki span a year to several years. It takes at least two months to process the paperwork for another noble to be added to the family lineage. Then, there is the high-drama of navigating the scheduling conflicts of the high-ranking heads of each House, the notable members of the branch families, and the important officers of rank within the Gotei 13. If any of the essential family members also served the Central Chamber, then months may be off the table while the body is in session.

Captain Shiba chuckles lightly into his cup. “I’m sure Kaien _wishes_ it were that easy. How long have they been planning this _thing_?” Captain Shiba asks, giving a squinting glance at Captain Ukitake.

“Probably a half a year by now. It feels endless. The paperwork is such a labyrinth it’s amazing any marriage in the Seireitei is ever perfected.” Captain Ukitake then turns to Lord Byakuya. “Have you and Lady Suiko settled on a date yet?”

Byakuya pours more sake into his cup. 

The ensuing silence forces Lord Heishi to answer on Byakuya’s behalf. “Not yet,” he says, forcing a small chuckle to his voice. “It will be a spring wedding for sure, but it’s unlikely to be done by this coming spring.”

Byakuya sips from his cup, expressionless and wordless to share in Lord Heishi’s forced cheer. Hisana watches him, and he is swift to catch her with his gray stare. He is so remote, face wiped clean of the barest of emotions, that she wonders if this is the same man with whom she has shared so many warm nights. There is only iron in eyes, not a shred of humanity.

“How about you, Captain Shiba?” Hisana asks, quickly ripping the room’s focus from Byakuya. She draws closer to the captain, placing her chin on his shoulder, teasing him with the flutter of eyelashes against his neck. “Do you have plans of filling your days with endless wedding paperwork?” 

“He doesn’t have plans on filling his days with his _current_ division paperwork,” jibes Captain Ukitake. This comment earns a few knowing grins from Captain Kyōraku and Lord Byakuya. 

“All my paperwork gets done!” protests Captain Shiba with feigned indignation.

“Yes, two months late and mostly incomplete,” retorts Captain Ukitake.

Captain Shiba raises a brow at this before turning his attention back to Hisana. He smiles widely at her, having read her intentions. “To your question, Miss Hisana,” he begins, eyes meeting hers. Like a peacock, he preens. Squares his shoulders. Puffs out his chest. “No woman could possibly tame all this,” he retorts, voice full of bravado, but there is a sly twinkle in his eyes that gives him away in an instant.

“Oh,” murmurs Hisana, approvingly. She gives him a long, heated look, and runs her hand lightly down his chest to his small belly, “are, you _sure_ that’s the _only_ reason you’re unattached?”

Captain Kyōraku and Tadahiro chuckle at the captain’s near-instant deflation. Captain Ukitake joins in with a slow, disapproving shake of his head.

Captain Shiba grabs his chest, fingers hooking into the fabric of his white haori above his heart. “So coldblooded, Miss Hisana.”

“Like a viper,” Tadahiro agrees, pulling Hisana into his arms. She angles pliantly against him, careful to wave her fan and shift her silks when she feels the pressure of his hand close over her thigh.

With careful ministrations, Tadahiro succeeds in what he sets out to do, which is to yank at a strand of her attention with such force that she cannot easily ignore him. Hisana is trapped in this regard; her attention is quickly splintering between too many variables to keep track of.

Stiffening a little, Hisana reaches out and lazily pours Captain Shiba another cup of sake before grasping her cup. “To lovely spring weddings,” she lifts her cup and pauses for a moment to lock eyes with Lord Heishi and then Captain Ukitake, “and incorrigible bachelors,” she adds with a quick wink at Captain Shiba. 

“Kanpai!” The men eagerly toast, but Hisana merely pretends to drain her cup before setting it down. Experience makes her wary of _too many_ toasts as a courtesan, a feeling seemingly shared by the young geisha who barely takes a sip of her sake before resuming playing her shamisen.

“Now,” Hisana begins again, this time she locks eyes with Captain Kyōraku, “a little bird told me that you won a poetry tournament recently.”

“Hisana,” Captain Ukitake begins warningly, “don’t encourage Shunsui. His depravity is bottomless.”

“An unfair assessment,” protests Captain Kyōraku, “my depravity is no more bottomless than my bottle of plum wine.”

“A bottle that is notoriously never dry,” retorts Ukitake with a quirk of his brow.

Captain Kyōraku doesn’t argue that point, instead, he returns Hisana’s gaze. “You heard rightly. I am the fifty-sixth winner of the senryu tournament.”

With a wolfish glint in her eyes, Hisana fills his cup and smiles thoughtfully at him. “Won’t you share your winning poem with us, Captain?”

His eyes squint slightly, and his fingers play along the lip of his cup for a moment before he drains his sake. He wears the look of a man hatching a plan. “Alright, but on one condition,” he begins, watching Hisana replenish his sake, “Everyone must give me a line of poetry.”

Hisana tilts her head to the side, eyes scanning each of the faces in the room. “Well, gentlemen? Shall you entertain us with your brilliant verse?” Nothing makes Hisana happier than turning the tables on the men to leverage a moment of peace.

As usual, none of the men appear particularly _thrilled_ at the prospect, but they all mumble their consent into their sake cups. Relief crests over her. Finally, she has a moment to breathe while the men trade verses at the Captain’s prompting.

Hisana half-listens as she sinks against Tadahiro’s chest. Idly, her gaze lingers on the crane painted on a silkscreen that, from her vantage point, sits between Captain Ukitake’s and Lord Byakuya’s shoulders.

Her mind only clears when she hears the first line of verse that Captain Kyōraku offers her. _“Even with a false bottom_ —”

She grins wickedly. He has given her an easy verse to complete. It’s the beginning of a well-known senryu in the Floating World, how could she not?

“—this bowl still costs 3 bu,” she murmurs, raising a brow in victory. 

Captain Kyōraku chuckles warmly at her boldness. “Very good, Miss Hisana. You earned my poem.” He clears his throat as if he is about to orate a grand speech. “Dear me, this quarter has no back gate.”

Immediately discerning the profanity lurking beneath the benignly-worded verse, Captain Ukitake’s jaw goes slack and he derides his friend, “ _Shunsui_ , how coarse!”

Hisana shakes her head knowingly. Another well-known senryu in the Pleasure Quarters, one that Captain Kyōraku absolutely did not compose. “So cruel, Captain, to deprive us of your genius. First pilfering Kahō and now this. Heart-break.” She presses her hand to her breast and bats her eyes, feigning mortal injury.

Captain Kyōraku wags his brows and grins artfully. “Who can really say which of my poems won this year?”

“I can,” chimes in Byakuya with a knowing glance. “And, Captain Kyōraku is sparing us from a poem that is not fit for proper company.”

Hisana’s eyes widen at the implication that Lord Byakuya was there, at the tournament. 

“Are you still steamed that you only took third place, little Byakuya?” asks Captain Kyōraku, smug in his superiority.

Lord Kuchiki hides a smirk behind a well-timed tilt of his sake cup. 

“Lord Kuchiki,” Hisana tuts at him, “I would have never expected this sort of conduct from someone so esteemed.”

“ _Believe it_ , and let’s say that his poem wasn’t exactly _virtuous_ , either,” says Captain Kyōraku. 

“Does that mean that Lord Kuchiki also conspired with you to force me into performing at the Celebration of the Arts?” asks Hisana. She gives a slow wave of her fan and meets the young lord’s gaze.

Byakuya’s chin jerks up at the question, all but announcing his innocence in the matter.

“No,” chuckles Captain Kyōraku, “we save the plotting portions of our poetry club for after little Byakuya leaves.”

“Yes, how did Hisana come to dance at the kabuki performance?” Tadahiro asks after a pensive sip of sake. His question is posed mildly enough, but the muscles of his arm tensing against her shoulder betray his agitation. “I would have loved to have seen it. Hisana so rarely dances these days.”

“I as well,” murmurs Lord Heishi.

And, there it is, Hisana thinks to herself. The reason that draws Tadahiro, Lord Heishi, and her to this particular gathering. She wonders if this was just a ruse to make her dance for them since they had not been in attendance that night. Maybe they want to judge for themselves as to whether the dance was just a spirited performance or a declaration of love. Maybe they want to trap Byakuya, too, so they could carefully inspect his reaction. Dissect them both for the audacity of limerence.

Captain Kyōraku takes the lead in the explanation, likely having come to a similar conclusion with swifter ease than she had managed. “The boy scheduled to perform the interlude is green, and we were afraid he wouldn’t have the nerve to perform. Turns out we were correct in that assessment.” He pauses for a moment, turning his attention to Hisana. “Hisana gladly obliged us.”

“ _Gladly_?” she challenges the Captain with a disbelieving look.

“You seemed pretty glad when I handed you my sword,” he replies, eyes beaming with all sorts of mischief. He quickly hides his grin behind his sake bowl.

Never one to back down from insinuating innuendo, Hisana tries to do him one better. “Your _sword_ may have been very _able_ , Captain,” she purrs, seductively, “Your _skill_ , however, was _not_.”

This comment earns her a laugh from everyone with the exception of Captain Ukitake, who merely shakes his head, eyes diving for cover in his sake cup. 

Captain Kyōraku leans forward, his earthen eyes aflame, “ _So you’re saying you liked my sword_?”

Hisana flicks open her fan quick enough to hide her chuckle. The laughter in her eyes, however, is not as easy to suppress.

“That escalated quickly,” teases Captain Ukitake, firmly holding onto his mantle of The Only Adult Here.

Lord Heishi tilts his head back slightly, and Hisana can feel the heat of his gaze against the curve of her neck. She knows he is going to make a request, and her stomach tightens at the prospect of responding.

“I would like to see a dance,” he says, eyes laser-focused on her.

Tadahiro shifts in his seat and draws Hisana closer to his chest, almost protectively. “The geisha,” he says, his gaze shooting down the table to the poor girl trying to _blend_ into the walls around her, “she is likely to give us a lively performance.”

Hisana trades stares with Tadahiro, hoping he can read her wordless gratitude. He nods and presses a swift kiss against her head. A kiss that Hisana would’ve almost mistaken as _loving_ had she not glimpsed Tadahiro throwing a barbed glance at Lord Byakuya when he did so.

The geisha flutters like a bird doused in water. Her beautiful silks ruffle as she grasps for words. “I don’t,” she begins meekly, “I’m not very,” but before she can admit defeat, she is on her feet. She leans her shamisen against the corner of the wall, and she bites her bottom lip. 

“I’m much better at shamisen than dance,” she says, voice climbing several octaves. “And, I don’t,” she glances down at her obi and her legs. Frantically, she pats for a fan that isn’t there.

Yes, Hisana knows the trick. A fan hides a myriad of sins. Can’t dance? Hypnotize them with your fan so they don’t look at your legs and feet. Need an artful distraction when your lord insists on diving into your robes? A fan will call attention away from his lechery. Need to draw attention from a snide comment or inappropriate remark? Flash that fan and make a joke. 

A fan is as much of a weapon in the Floating World as a sword is among the Gotei 13. And, right now, what Tadahiro commands the young geisha to do is akin to asking her to go to war naked.

Helpless. 

The girl looks like she is about to be executed by a pitchfork-wielding mob. 

In a moment of pity, Hisana snaps her fan shut, and leans forward, careful not to collapse in a heap on Captain Shiba. “Here,” she says with a kind smile. “Before the men start offering you their _swords_ to play with.” She cuts a dry look Captain Kyōraku’s way, who returns it with a wry wink.

The geisha’s brown eyes light with relief, and she smiles demurely at Hisana before taking the fan and bowing three times. “Thank you so much, Sister,” she murmurs. 

Hisana smiles to herself. Indeed, the women in the Pleasure Quarters work best as a sisterhood. Her violet eyes flit up to find Lord Byakuya watching her with an expression of hopeless admiration.

If she had been closer, she would’ve ground her elbow into his side. But she wasn’t, so stupidly, he held her attention just long enough for Tadahiro to correct it by yanking her back to him.

The room goes silent and still while the geisha performs. It is a simple dance. One that all the young girls are taught in their gangling years. But, its fan-work is flashy enough to amuse the patrons, and the geisha is graceful enough to call attention away from the steps she doesn’t remember as well.

Hisana watches through a cloud of questions. She was almost certain she had arrived at the correct conclusion, that both Lord Heishi and Tadahiro wanted to see her dance. Did Tadahiro lose his resolve? Was Tadahiro searching another fault line and didn’t need to witness an encore performance?

When the geisha finishes her dance, Hisana and the Captains give her encouraging applause. 

“Well done,” praises Captain Ukitake.

The geisha begins to enter a low bow. As soon as her chest lowers, however, Hisana’s fan slips from the girl’s hands and careens into the table before clattering across the floor into one of the steps leading up from the sunken center of the room.

Hisana’s eyes go wide, horrified for the young performer. For all of her _many_ embarrassments, she never failed at a dance in front of a room full of high lords and Captains. The poor thing.

Panic rises in the geisha, which only sets her nerves aflutter. Any attempt to pick the fan up makes an even bigger display, as she seemingly forgets how to work her fingers. The fan slips and slides across the room until Captain Shiba charitably rescues it. When he goes to flash it dramatically the leaves fan askew.

It’s broken.

The geisha gasps before apologizing profusely. “Miss Hisana, please, please, I-I-I—” she stammers, horror and tears wetting her eyes.

Hisana shakes her head as the broken fan passes from Captain Shiba’s hand to hers. “Do not worry. I can’t tell you how many fans I’ve broken when I was dancing more regularly.”

Nothing, however, appears to appease the young girl’s shame.

“Hisana is so kind to the young geisha, and yet so cruel to me,” notes Captain Shiba, drawing attention away from the girl’s internal meltdown, to allow her a quiet moment.

Hisana immediately ascertains this diversion and turns her head, eyes in soft focus on Captain Shiba’s mouth. Like actors performing a bad romantic comedy, Captain Shiba shifts closer beside her, as if under her spell. “Well, Captain,” she says, voice breathy and fraying, “I always heard that men who wield enormous—” she pauses, tilting her head.

Captain Shiba nods his head, hanging on her every word in anticipation. One… two… three seconds pass, and he can’t help himself. “You were saying I wield an enormous—” he urges her on, the lines of his face ready to crack into a grin.

“—power and influence always like women with a little _bite_ to them,” she says, never once breaking her gaze.

“Oh, I do like women who bite.” 

Hisana goes to flutter her fan sportingly, but it falls apart in her hand. Her eyes widen, and, she is thrown off-guard, which triggers a ripple of chuckling through the room. It takes every inch of restraint not to burst into laughter. Captain Shiba fares no better, pressing his lips together to keep the words trapped inside his mouth.

“The geisha’s dance was very fine,” says Lord Heishi, “but I would like to see Hisana dance.”

Hisana doesn’t move a single muscle. She just sits, weight mostly supported by Tadahiro, who she can feel tensing against her back. Both Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake trade apprehensive glances, and Byakuya straightens, his shoulders squaring, open and even.

“Oh, I would love to dance, but it appears my fan is indispose.” She thumbs the fan open, only for the leaves to rip further, and the fan’s balance in her hand becomes even more lopsided.

Lord Heishi lifts his chin, eyes narrowing as he considers her easy answer. “They say you used a sword at the festival—” before he can continue, Hisana is ready with another excuse.

“A lovely idea,” she agrees, head tilting to the side as she considers the lord, “unfortunately, I think the room is too small for the length of any of these captains’ swords.”

Captain Shiba attempts a rescue. Putting his chin in his hand and staring at her, like a lovestruck puppy, he says, “Do go on about praising the length of my sword. Not enough people seem to notice.”

This comment earns him a gentle slap on the arm from her fan, which cracks the lacquered wood even more. 

“How about a hairpin?” interjects the geisha helpfully.

All the smiles die, and a burst of cold enters the room. Hisana shivers under her robes, mind racing to find a way to divert this inquiry.

“Yes, that red kanzashi is lovely,” Lord Heishi notes, eyes trained on the flutter of the streamer that kisses her neck. 

Hisana’s attention flies to Captain Kyōraku, whose expression of gentle humor has turned to stone. 

He warned her. A warning she sincerely heeded. She just . . . . She couldn’t leave it at the House. She wanted to have it with her just one last time, convincing herself that she would give it to Ginrei Kuchiki. Maybe she needed a piece of Byakuya for the night, to survive it. But, Captain Ginrei Kuchiki wasn’t there, and Byakuya Kuchiki was blinded by reckless affection.

“Oh, yes,” says Tadahiro, craning his head to get a better look at the hairpin. Without warning, he yanks it out of her bun, and, in the process loosens several sections of hair, which tumble down her back.

“You seem to be fond of this one,” he continues, holding it up to examine it. 

Hisana doesn’t miss the fact that he angles the kanzashi to Lord Byakuya. It’s a naked taunt, one that earns Tadahiro dark looks from both Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake. Lord Byakuya sits completely still, as if he is frozen in cold realization at how this is going to end. 

_Please, please, please_ , Hisana chants to herself, praying that Tadahiro will spare the hairpin. 

“I remember you wearing it at the festival. Tell me, Hisana, where did you get it?” Tadahiro asks the question, eyes fixing Lord Byakuya.

Hisana inhales a shaky breath. She feels pinned like a butterfly to a board. There is little that she can do but lie to spare Lord Byakuya shame. “I bought it at the market a few weeks ago. It’s lovely, no?” She tries to swipe the kanzashi from Tadahiro’s grasp, but he is quick to pull it away.

“The market, eh?” his brows furrow as he inspects it. “It does look cheap.” Balancing the head of the hairpin between his thumb and index finger, he dangles it in front of her.

Hisana knows that this is a ploy; he is toying with her as a cat toys with a mouse. The moment she dares, he will rip it away. And, yet, she must _do something._ So, she doesn’t reach for the kanzashi. Instead, she rests her hand against his forearm. Her fingers press into his flesh. Her touch wrests Tadahiro’s attention from Lord Byakuya.

His keen eyes find hers, and, for a moment, hope fills Hisana. Hope that Tadahiro had a change of heart. Hope that his hesitation means he will relinquish the kanzashi. 

With a tender expression, Tadahiro lowers his head and brushes a kiss to her lips. Hisana’s hand ghosts up his arm to the base of his wrist, unwilling to go farther until she feels the cords of muscles in his hand release. So close. Just another heartbeat, and she might be able to save the heirloom.

This hope that rises like a bubble in her chest quickly bursts. Tadahiro deepens his kiss, and she braces herself. Her lover, however, is less successful in hiding his reaction. From the corner of her half-lidded eye, Hisana sees the moment that forsakes the kanzashi as Lord Byakuya shifts forward in his seat, cold rage flaring in his eyes.

Tadahiro breaks away, dragging his attention back to Lord Byakuya. “I will buy her one twice as nice,” he says, voice as cool and bladed as the edge of a sword. With little effort, he snaps the red cherry blossom kanzashi with his thumb.

A loud _crack_ punctures the tense silence followed by the clattering of the pieces of streamer and beads hitting the table and floor. The tension in the room thickens until Hisana swears her skin is vibrating from the sheer amount of spiritual pressure both Lord Byakuya and Tadahiro release. All it takes is one flicker of muscle from Lord Byakuya and both men are on their feet.

The captains are the next to follow. Captain Ukitake grabs Lord Byakuya by the shoulders. Captain Kyōraku stands between the men, and Captain Shiba has a hand on Tadahiro’s arm. 

It all comes as blur. A blur of white haori. A blur of words that her brain cannot process. 

Hisana glances up at Lord Heishi, who stands at the head of the table, looking aghast at what is transpiring before his eyes. The young geisha has fled the room, likely to alert the proprietor of the row.

“Lord Heishi, why don’t you take Miss Hisana back to the Peony House,” Captain Kyōraku instructs, eyes set on the open door behind Hisana. 

Lord Heishi gingerly takes Hisana by the arm and helps her to her feet. The two hurry out of the room. Wordlessly, they travel the empty corridors leading to the vestibule of the restaurant. They do not spare a word until they are in the thick of the summer night.

“That was quite a spirited performance tonight,” remarks Lord Heishi.

“Yeah?” snaps Hisana as she steps into the street, “The fisticuffs costs extra.”

“Okuni’s lively shamisen playing is tame in comparison.”

At this, Hisana’s rage boils over. She is forced into the street with a friend’s patron. She will not suffer being pitted against her friend by such man. “Okuni’s worst shamisen performances are a thousand times better than what happened tonight.” 

Lord Heishi grins at her, likely taking amusement at her ruffled fieriness. “No offense intended to Okuni. Even if I was inclined to dabble, I doubt I could afford your price for long, given the company you keep.”

Hisana shoots him a dark look. “I can see myself home. Thank you,” she says the words with the roteness of an incantation, and she yanks her arm from his grasp.

“Actually,” begins Lord Heishi, keeping pace, “I was hoping to catch you alone. At the very least I should apologize for what just happened. It had not been my intention to incite young Lord Kuchiki—”

Hisana bristles, eyes narrowed. It wasn’t _just_ Byakuya. Tadahiro played his part of the brute well enough to incite her to wanting to slap him. 

“—or Lord Konoe,” Lord Heishi adds quickly, likely reading the shadows on Hisana’s face, “As I’m sure you’ve already gathered, this dinner was mere pretext.”

“Pretext for what?”

Lord Heishi pauses for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, “I take it that you have not spoken with Lord Ginrei yet?”

“Not yet.” She has the date marked in red on her social calendar. Four weeks. Panic pricks her every time her mind drifts to the appointment.

“I thought as much.” Another thoughtful pause ushers in a heavy silence. The lord stops in his paces, and, reflexively, Hisana follows suit. “The arrangement between Suiko and Byakuya is a financial one, as I’m certain you know. The Kuchiki are powerful allies, and my family has built certain trade routes and supply chains that they consider valuable for their various enterprises. Part of Suiko’s dowry is a large portion of those trade routes.”

“ _Fascinating_.” Hisana’s _patience_ is in rapid decline.

Lord Heishi braces against her withering stare. His jaw clenches. The muscles in his neck pull taut as he lifts his head. “I’m a pragmatic man, Miss Hisana. I have a wife and a courtesan. I know the difference between duty and love, and the importance both are in balance, but,” his voice wavers as he searches her face, “Suiko is my only child. She is a subdued girl, spoiled on love. She desperately wants a courtship like the ones she reads about in her novels, but—” he hesitates. 

Hisana knows the reason, too. 

No matter how prettily Lord Heishi can string together the words, the simple fact is that the Kuchiki family is _not_ a loving one. It is rule-abiding. Duty-bound. Prone to physical and political violence. It does not value love, only complete obedience.

“—she doesn’t possess a courtesan’s fire or directness. She is young and naïve, and, quite frankly, I’m afraid she would find only immense unhappiness at Byakuya’s side,” he continues, gaze falling to the street, pitted with old rainwater and smelling of damp flowers and soil.

“Lord Kuchiki, Lord Konoe, and I arranged this dinner to test the both of you,” he confesses.

“And, how did the lord judge us?” Hisana restrains herself, but the venom is there, soaking her voice. 

He inhales a centering breath. “Your performance was sterling. Restrained. Generous.”

Hisana folds her arms against her chest and stares, impassive, at the man. Compliments will get him nowhere. 

“And, if not for the hairpin, I believe Byakuya Kuchiki would’ve have succeeded. However.” He stops to inhale a troubled breath. “Even before the spat with Lord Konoe, it was clear to me that Byakuya Kuchiki’s heart is one that is not easily possessed. And, after witnessing him tonight, I am also convinced that his heart is elsewhere.” He pauses to watch her intently.

Hisana feels her own heart kick against her sternum. She knows what comes next, the question for which there is no right answer.

“I wanted to see you dance to determine it for myself. It was the agreement between us, but, at the last moment, Lord Konoe appeared to have a change of heart,” says Lord Heishi.

That change of heart was probably prompted by the red kanzashi, thinks Hisana. Tadahiro saw it at the festival and knew, just like Captain Kyōraku knew, what the hairpin’s legacy entailed. Seeing it again, when it wasn’t in her hair at the start of his party, told him a rather damning story. He knew that she took her obligations seriously; that she would not have secreted away with another man when she was set to serve him. To do so would only mean that her favor had shifted. Lord Konoe required no further insult to his pride that night, which he likely feared the dance would do. 

“I didn’t want to resort to this rather vulgar question, but I am left no choice: Do you love Byakuya Kuchiki?”

Hisana shivers at the emotion summoned by the question. It is strong, but ineffable. Hammering and harrowing, she doesn’t have the words to describe it. Is it love? Passion? Desire? All three? Could she love after what she has done? Could she ever perfect the state of love with a man who has everything, when she has nothing to give?

Scared of her own heart, Hisana does the next natural thing. She pivots. 

“It never ceases to amaze me how easily educated influential men forget that everything in the Floating World—from the twinkle of lights that line the teahouses to the flirtatious glances from young geisha—is practiced artifice. Artifice tailored precisely to your whims. The women here are performers of every sort and will sell you whatever fiction you desire. But, it is only a _fiction_. True love, sir, is in short supply here. Especially among courtesans. Our mistresses rip our hearts out of our chests the moment we pass into the bordello, and they put them in glass jars, to be forever contained.”

“Your heart may be contained,” he says, expression pitying, “but it still beats. A man may not have food, but he still feels the ache of hunger. Now, tell me, Miss Hisana, do you have feelings for Byakuya Kuchiki?”

Hisana presses her lips together and rips her gaze away. She has no words. Only anger, frustration, and a building pressure in her chest.

Heavy, damning silence blankets them, drowning out the nighttime street noises. It is the blackest of white noises. 

“I see,” Lord Heishi says after what feels like a small eternity has passed. His weight shifts, as if he about to take his leave of her.

“Wait,” says Hisana, freezing him in place, “what does it matter?” Lifting her head, she examines him with a probing stare. “Aren’t you going to demand that I refuse him? Cut all ties? Break his heart?”

Lord Heishi glances downward. “I don’t think Byakuya is a stupid man. He would know the source of your rejection wasn’t an indifferent heart, but an order by your betters.”

“I don’t want him to be shamed by tonight. He is young,” she says, as if she is _so much older_ and _wiser_ , “I will send him away. Tell him what I told you. That this is all a lie.” The sting of tears nearly blinds her.

“I have my answer, at least.” He nudges the crack in the sidewalk with the toe of his foot, as if he finds his next idea an uncomfortable one. “There is _one_ thing, a certain arrangement that could salvage this betrothal.”

There it is. The “certain arrangement.” Hisana can’t breathe. The world feels like its shifting under her feet, like the ground is turning to quicksand.

“The Kuchiki elders are open to allowing Byakuya a concubine.” The lines in Lord Heishi’s forehead deepen, and he lowers his head, like a man forced to accept defeat. “I will ask Ginrei Kuchiki to test the prudence of this _arrangement_.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tomorrow the Kuchiki are hosting a full-moon viewing party. It begins at twilight. The betrothed and their retinues will be there. The elders and I want to see how the three of you interact before agreeing to this particular arrangement.”

“Another test?” scoffs Hisana.

“Another test,” he mutters, eyes set, voice low.

It’s a bad idea. One that Hisana wants to reject immediately, heatedly. “Do I get a choice in this decision?”

“Not if you don’t want to bring shame to your lover.” A silvery moonbeam reflects from the wells of the lord’s eyes, and his lips slit into a wolfish smirk.

Hisana sucks in a tremulous breath, realizing only too late that she has been outplayed. The lord is no weary or concerned father. Whether the marriage was to take place was never truly in question. Only the _details_ needed to be _arranged_ , ironed-out. Money was to be made, and influence was to be extended, after all.

In that moment, under the flickering street lanterns, Hisana realizes that Lord Heishi’s true gambit was to discern the extent of her devotion and use it against her. He succeeded. They may not be able to reason with Byakuya, inured from years of privilege, but _she_ could be manipulated if her heart rang true. The threat of shaming Byakuya by breaking the betrothal, proves to be a powerful one, drawing Hisana’s consent to an arrangement that, while imperfect, might temper Byakuya’s reckless heart, making the marriage more acceptable to him and sparing Suiko from more innuendo and rumor.

Hisana wants to test the bluff in Lord Heishi’s eyes. She wants to refuse, to tell him that she cannot submit to life as a concubine. Part of her—as hard and as cold as granite—knows that her refusal is unlikely to force the Heishi to break the vows set forth in blood between the families.

_But…._

Doubt proves to be a potent poison, and her heart flutters at the thought of testing her hypothesis. The risks are too great. She will not risk Byakuya’s happiness on a guess. 

“Well done, Lord Heishi,” she murmurs, eyes closing at the quiet readiness of her resignation. All she feels is a deep shame and the writhing of her strangling soul.

“I will ensure a litter is sent to your House mid-day tomorrow. We will take care that the necessary privileges are granted to allow you entrance into Kuchiki manor.” Before turning to leave her desolate on the street, Lord Heishi issues a warning, “Your steadiness will be key in this arrangement.”

Hisana turns. No bows. No good-byes. Her resolve is fraying, and she shivers in her robes despite the heat of summer rising in waves from the emptying streets. 

She affords herself the luxury of a bath. It does no good. The chill is endless, frosting her soul and rattling wild in her bones. 

When she enters her rooms, she lights a lamp, takes a sheet of parchment, and balances a brush between her fingers. The ink is set; the pale amber light of the lantern flickers across her small writing desk; but the words do not come. Her mind cannot conjure anything except darkness, yawning oblivion. 

And yet she waits. Knowing. Wishing. Wanting it not to be. Wanting it to be so.

She waits for the gentle rapping at her door. When it comes, she snuffs out the candle, and she slides the door back. When she sees him, the winter that blows through her thaws.

She does not regret reaching up to caress the lip that weeps blood or the tender skin around his eye. She does not regret bringing him into her rooms or her confidence. She does not regret taking him to her bed and undressing him under the deep shades of nightfall. Nor does she regret the broken love she makes to him.

What she regrets is not confessing to him, not telling him of his family’s plots, of their conditions. She regrets being made complicit, part of her horrified that he will discover her betrayal, even though she acts with the intent to spare him from ruin. Mostly, she regrets not being strong enough, regrets constantly failing those for whom she cares the most deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter took so long to finish, but it was definitely one of the more entertaining ones to write. The poems referenced in the chapter were found in Cecilia Segawa Seigle's wonderful Yoshiwara, The Glittering World of the Japanese Courtesan as being around during the good ole Edo days. And, yes, interpret them as dirtily as you wish.


End file.
